


Prisoners of Our Own Device

by theysayimasinner



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fighting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Original work - Freeform, Promises, Street fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theysayimasinner/pseuds/theysayimasinner
Summary: This is a snippet of a longer work from two best friends who used to know each other. And now we’re lost.





	Prisoners of Our Own Device

Just a snowy night. There had been no work. No Alex. Nothing today. Grey needed to silence the quiet with something- anything as long as he slipped his jacket on. Grey shoved a pack of cigarettes in his jeans, left a note for Alex in case he decided to show, pulled his beanie low and walked out the door.  
Grey couldn't decide if he just wanted to go for a walk. Maybe down to Stacy's for a midnight cup of coffee. But he doubted they'd be open. Grey trudged through the slush to his car, the outdoor parking lot always a joy in the winter.  
It wasn't cold enough to have to scrape ice off the BMW, only to wipe away soft flakes. Grey slammed the door shut. Inside was warm. Inside smelt like Alex's cologne. Grey slipped a CD in and let the music drive him away.  
White sprinkles flitted against the bright city lights. They fell down calmly on the hood of Grey's car as the music directed him left... then right... and another left. And many more turns later and an abandoned parking garage later, Grey stepped out of his silver beauty and closed the door roughly. Music blasted from imaginary speakers and a crowd of people- maybe forty people- all stood in a broken circle.  
Grey felt his fingers clench and unclench in a way of stretching. A few people turned when they saw the car pull up. But most of these people were intensely looking and cheering upon the action in the middle. Someone shouted,"COME ON! I BET ON YOU!" Grey stood back and watched the fight between the bodies of the circle and above most of the heads. Within another thirty seconds, one man (who has bad swing as Grey could see) was being lifted off the ground, and the other stood up victoriously- calling for another opponent.  
Grey seized the opportunity and pushed past the wall of people until he was spit out into the middle.  
The champion of the dark parking garage looked at Grey with odd eyes. Like they were glazed over. From what he didn't know. Drugs most likely. Grey shrugged his leather jacket off, making sure to give it to no one that way it was safe. Bets were being yelled.  
The obnoxiously buff man over Grey- a moderately toned man that looks like a tree.  
Grey smiled at the thought and how it was the same every time. How he would use his training and his advantage to mooch a couple hundred from these bozos for just the fun of it. Just the feeling of control.  
Grey slipped his shirt off, leaving only his skinny jeans and black tank top to fight in. He wasn't worried about ruining his outfit tonight. The man began jumping up and down like a rabbit- his teeth snarled like a rabid dog. Grey raised a single eyebrow and just stood rubbed his hands together until the sound alarmed and he could walk forward.  
The fight was short, though did quite the number on Grey's left eyebrow and cheek. Along with his hands which were torn to bloody pieces. The dude was toned, but unskilled. His skin had been a wall to hit.  
The dollar bills piled into Grey's hands and pockets as he attempted to move back to his car. Someone had stepped on his jacket. He breathed in slow, slowing the urge to fight again.  
Grey lay back into his driver seat before driving. He hadn't expected to come here tonight. Alex was going to be upset. The drive home was much more unsettling than normal. The fear of the shorter shithead being there to hold him to the deal was enough to mud his thoughts. It was Grey's fault- he had promised no more street fighting. Though that was two times ago. And somehow Gaeta always knew.  
When Grey pulled into his parking lot, it was three in the morning. He gulped and looked down at his hands. Then to his left where he saw where the familiar Chevy sat. Of fucking course. Grey kicked his door open, stepped in pure sludge as he got out, and made way for his apartment. The stone steps leading up to the rooms were blanketed lightly with snow. No footprints- meaning nobody had come in to the rooms or out for quite a while. "Shit." Greyson muttered lightly. He pulled his beanie down lower and unlocked his own front door with nerves.  
It was dark inside. Grey set his keys in the little ceramic bowl on the table beside the door and hung his coat on the rack above it. Alex was in here. Just wasn't making himself appear yet. Grey gulped and walked into the kitchen to pour a cup of water.  
Without even turning around, Grey knew he was there. Slowly, Grey turned on his boot heels and saw Alexander Gaeta casually seated on the counter with a small glass of alcohol. Grey sniffed, the strong odor of tequila overcame the kitchen. Grey scratched at his side, looked down, then back up. "I thought you quit."  
"I thought you did too." Alex's voice was gravelly and dangerously low. The sounds of New York were faint in the background as Alex and Grey had a stare down. Grey set his glass in the sink and attempted hiding his hands, though it didn't do any good.  
Alex reached to his side and set his own glass down with a rather gentle touch. He slides off the counter in one move, his sweatpants rising up slightly on his waist. He walked out of the kitchen then turned at the entrance to indicate for Grey to follow.  
Grey obliged his best friend. A silent Alex was a scary Alex- one that some unlucky bitch had to work for. Grey must've really disappointed the man. A pang of guilt thumped through his chest, his insides hollowed out. Grey followed in silence to the bathroom. Alex pointed to the toilet seat and Grey took a seat. Alex scurried through the medicine cabinet and underneath the sink. He set peroxide, bandages, and cloth all on the counter beside Grey. What was Al doing? He knew, but didn't want to recognise the feeling of hurt mixed with compassion that created tension in the small space.  
Alex takes Greys hand and begins dabbed each wound with alcohol, making Grey cringe slightly. Slowly, with delicate care, Alex began wrapping Grey's hand. Grey felt an actual pain behind his eyes, not crying hurt more than his skin. He wouldn't cry when socked in the face, but as soon as Alexander Gaeta decides to pull stunts like this, Grey loses it.  
Grey closes his eyes as Alex holds his hands, he was tired. And he knew finally. Maybe sleep would come. Hardly likely but it is fun to dream.  
Alex's hands were rough but gentle, lifting Grey's palm with a light touch of fingertips. The cloth that was being used was thin, the tape was strong. Grey kept his stare on Alex, watching Alex's expression focus on his work. Another twinge of disappointment hit, and Grey let his tears slide.  
Alex's expression hardly changed except a twitch of an eyebrow. Soon, Alex stood up a little more and wiped Grey's tear. Then applied cleaner to his eyebrow and his cheek. Grey kept his gaze on Alex, his heart in his stomach. The worst feeling in the entire world- disappointing the person who matters most.  
Finally, Alex let his hands fall and turned to put the products away. Grey sat limp on the toilet seat, playing half-heartedly with the white bandages on his fingers. Alex didn't turn to him as he left the bathroom. Grey didn't move as the sound of the front door quietly closed and was locked from the outside.

**Author's Note:**

> This was hard to find and not cry over it.


End file.
